


The Blessed Curse

by L_autore_Passionale



Series: Batfam Week 2020 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne loves his family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23082340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_autore_Passionale/pseuds/L_autore_Passionale
Summary: “Aw, nuts.”That sweet voice, the high pitch of a young child, made Bruce flinch. That was not a sound he should hear. That was not a sound he should hear in the Batcave. That was not a sound he should hear in the Batcave when only he and his children were present.Jason swore, but it was with surprise and not a little amusement, his voice deep and husky and normal. So it wasn’t Jason.Tim’s soft, “That’s interesting,” marked him off the list of possible culprits.That left two. Dick and Damian.“Grayson?” Damian gasped, and Bruce shut his eyes in resignation.
Series: Batfam Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654126
Comments: 22
Kudos: 560
Collections: Fan Fiction Addiction, Tales from the Cave





	The Blessed Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Batfam Week 2020 Prompt, Day 4: De-Aging
> 
> My apologies for not having anything written for yesterday's prompt (or anything for day 6)!

“Aw, nuts.”

That sweet voice, the high pitch of a young child, made Bruce flinch. That was not a sound he should hear. That was not a sound he should hear in the Batcave. That was not a sound he should hear in the Batcave when only he and his children were present.

Jason swore, but it was with surprise and not a little amusement, his voice deep and husky and normal. So it wasn’t Jason. 

Tim’s soft, “That’s interesting,” marked him off the list of possible culprits.

That left two. Dick and Damian.

“Grayson?” Damian gasped, and Bruce shut his eyes in resignation. 

He’d have to call the Justice League and request a leave of absence for his duties until this situation was resolved. He’d have to have someone check the chandeliers and make sure they were still secure. The thicker rugs needed to be brought out, in case one of Dick’s stunts failed. It would offer a little padding, at least. 

Alfred would need to hide all of the sugar they had in the manor. _All_ of it. Dick Grayson as a child was a menace with _out_ a sugar high. With one? Even Superman was hard-pressed to keep up with him.

All of those thoughts ran through his head as he slowly, _slowly_ rotated his chair around. He thought he was prepared. He thought he was prepared for the sight of Dick Grayson as a child again. He thought he was prepared for the sight of Dick Grayson’s bright blue eyes peering out at him from his misleadingly angelic face. He thought he was prepared for Dick Grayson’s lower lip stuck out in a pout.

He was not.

It hit him like a sucker punch, the wind knocked out of him at the sight of Dick Grayson as a _five year old._ Oh, he had not had the chance to see this boy at that age, to see the way baby fat still rounded his cheeks, the small boy he’d known at nine even more tiny and wiry. Tears filled Dick’s eyes, no doubt the emotions of a preschool-aged child overwhelming him, even though his son had kept his mental adult age. 

And he had, Bruce knew that with the two words he had spoken. He knew it in the way he stared at Bruce imploringly, not scared of who should be strangers to the tiny child at that age, but comfortable with his family. 

“Bwuce.”

The cave was beautiful this time of year, dark and cold. The bats added a sweet ambiance to the setting, their chittering comfortable and normal. Everything was right in the world. _Bwuce._ Dick had called him _Bwuce._

The pout worsened when Bruce did not move, still staring at the sweet child in front of him. He thought, maybe, that he had been broken. By Dickie. By his son. 

A tear trailed down the boy’s round cheeks, and Bruce flung himself from the chair and across the space to where Dick stood still. 

He hushed the boy, crooning something soft and nonsensical as he gathered him in his arms. There was the slightest hitch to the child’s breath, betraying how startled he was, either at the change in his body or at Bruce’s hold. When Dick burrowed into his arms, he decided it was the former.

Damian looked scared at the sight of his mentor, who was now younger than him. He tried to hide it behind a question he kept carefully even. “How did this happen?”

“Uh....” At the sound, all eyes swung to Jason, who shifted back on his heels. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! It was _his_ fault!”

“It was not!” Dick piped back at him, pulling his head back and swiping away the tears in his eyes. “You’we the one who pissed off the witch!”

 _You’we._ Bruce was melting. His cold, hard heart was melting into mush; Batman was no more. Perhaps he would come up with a new moniker….

“And you’re the one who jumped in front of her spell when she was aiming at me!”

Bruce’s mind stalled again. _Jason_ as a child. Jason with his hard Crime Alley accent in the tiny voice of a child! He shook his head to try and focus.

“One of you will need to tell me what happened, but first.” He looked down at Dick. Putting a finger on his chin, he directed the boy’s attention back to him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Memory fuzzy?”

“No.”

“Feel different?”

“Bwuce, I’m tiny! Of couwse I feel diffewent!”

 _Praise Thee, Father, for the blessings I have received…._ He shook away Alfred’s voice and oft-spoken prayer from his mind in order to focus on the situation, unable to stop the smile that curled his lips. Alfred was going to fall hard for this child all over again. 

“Okay, okay, chum. Timmy?” The boy in question straightened at his name. “Can you contact Zatanna? See if she is available to check on Dick? Make sure there’s nothing dangerous about this?”

“Sure thing, B.” 

He turned away immediately to work at the computer, and Bruce’s attention went to Damian next. Damian, who still looked like he was anxious and scared and worried. The emotions were expertly hidden, but Damian was his son. Bruce knew how he was feeling.

“Damian.”

Dick turned his head to look in the other boy’s direction. “Dami,” he nearly whimpered, and Bruce gave him a quick, searching look. No, he was _not_ as upset as he was pretending to be at the moment. 

Dick’s arm tugged out from Bruce’s grasp and was held out, as if asking for a hug. Damian hesitated, an excuse on the tip of his tongue. Dick sniffled, and that was that. The master manipulator’s bag of tricks had worked again. Damian came forward to kneel beside Bruce and wrapped an arm around Dick with a sigh. Bruce carefully leaned his head down to rest against the top of Damian’s, marvelling at his ability to do so without the boy ducking away.

“I know what you’re doing, Grayson,” Damian muttered, to which Dick’s lips stretched up in a smile.

“I don’t know what you’we talkin’ about!”

…

How Jason had gotten “roped” into holding Dick for Zatanna’s check up, Bruce didn’t know, but he was so very grateful for the security cameras he had hidden throughout the cave. He had a feeling Jason had also been sucker-punched by Dick’s pleading face and sweet voice, potent weapons in their own right. 

Bruce had not managed to speak another word, once seeing Dick huddled in Jason’s lap, each boy’s hold becoming closer and closer to a cuddle. Neither seemed to mind, despite the red-tinge to Jason’s cheeks and tips of his ears. When Tim wandered too close, Dick reached out quick as a flash and grasped on to his hand, pouting and pointing to the open space next to them. 

Tim didn’t seem to mind it, either, a pleased tilt to his face that sent a wave of warmth through Bruce. He was so truly blessed to have these boys. His sons. He was positive he didn’t deserve them, but somehow, he must have done _something_ right for them to consider him their father. 

“Well, the good news is, the spell as a whole won’t last more than a week.”

Bruce blinked, running the words back through his mind. “Spell as a whole,” he repeated, the question implied.

Zatanna pressed her lips together, quite obviously trying to hide her smile. “Spell as a whole. Unfortunately, or fortunately, however you choose to look at it, the spell has another component.”

“Which is?” Damian crossed his arms, keeping a careful eye on Dick, who had somehow wriggled until he laid against Jason’s chest with his legs propped across Tim’s lap. His hand was still curled around the latter boy’s, so Tim’s arm stretched over to Dick so that his hand rested beside the boy’s heart.

“The ability to be spread.”

“Oh no,” Tim said quietly, and Zatanna threw her head back with a laugh. 

“Oh yes. It takes only a touch. He passes it to someone else, that person to another, and so on, and so on. But don’t worry. The de-aging only lasts for a day. Then it’s the next person’s turn. Contagion for the spell lasts only a week, and once someone is de-aged once, they’re immune for the remainder of the spell.”

Silence fell for a long moment, each thinking over the events of the last few hours. “Oh no,” Bruce said quietly, unintentionally echoing his third son.

Jason looked torn between horror and blissful joy. “Oh, this is…. I can’t even tell you what this is. Bruce. Bruce as a child. Oh, oh frickin' _yes.”_

Bruce sighed, acting put upon, but really? He got to see each of his children at an age he had never been able to before. Because he had touched Damian; Damian had brushed against Jason, and just moments before, Tim’s and Jason’s arms had brushed together as Tim sat at Dick’s urging. Bruce was _thrilled._

“Consider us on lockdown,” Bruce said after Zatanna made her leave. “No one else in or out.”

Dick sat up, clapping his little hands. “Movie night!”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Alfred’s voice called from behind them, and Dick’s face lit up. 

“Alfie!” 

Bruce grabbed the boy before he could fly at the stunned man, an explanation already spilling from his lips. Alfred was very rarely surprised by anything, but Dick’s tiny form was not something one would expect on a normal day. His face lit up as he looked at the boy cradled in Bruce’s grip.

“Master Richard,” he said warmly. He held out his arms for Bruce to transfer Dick. Satisfaction curled through Bruce when he saw the man he considered a second father holding his son.

“You’ll have to be careful not to brush against me,” Tim said as they all moved up the stairs and into the manor. He took a step away until he was at a safer distance from the butler. “I’m the last link in the chain.”

Alfred’s eyes crinkled as he looked up from the imp in his arms to Tim. “Let me get this straight. There are no negative side effects. One simply revisits their childhood body for 24 hours.”

“Correct,” Tim said.

“So these old bones won’t hurt for a day.”

A little smile grew on Tim’s face. “Correct again.”

Dick wiggled, and Alfred let him slide down until he was on the ground. “Gonna fly, Bwuce! Bye!”

Bruce flinched, but Jason was already running. “I got him, old man,” he called over his shoulder. “Come back here, pipsqueak!” 

Dick’s giggle lit the manor with joy and love. Watching Alfred and Tim, Bruce’s heart swelled in contentment and more satisfaction.

“Then, Master Timothy, as always, I most assuredly do not want you to keep your distance.” Lifting a hand, he cupped Tim’s cheek with a smile. “What a wonderful blessing we have been given.”

Tim leaned into the touch, and Bruce stepped forward to wrap them both in a hug. 

His family was whole and safe. Joy, so infrequent in their lives, filled his heart to overflowing. Bruce wasn’t going to waste a second of it.

…

Whispers woke him the next night, and he slowly stretched and sat up on the couch. He, his sons, and Alfred had been enjoying another movie night at Dick’s request, last he remembered. He must have fallen asleep.

Prying open sleep-crusted eyes, he froze when he saw first Dick’s eyes on him (an adult, again, his son tall and strong), and then Jason’s and Tim’s. Damian’s. Alfred’s eyes were the last ones he noticed, for all he was the closest, kneeling in front of where Bruce sat on the couch. 

“Hello, son,” he said softly, and Bruce’s face split in a wide smile. 

“Alfie,” he responded, and then he froze. That did not sound like his normal voice. Usually, he was a couple octaves deeper than the high alto he’d just heard come from his own mouth.

He looked down to see small, chubby hands that flexed when he moved them and small feet with tiny toes. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. 

“Oh, nutth,” he muttered, long forgotten lisp making a reappearance. Happy laughter met his ears, and Bruce tilted his face down to hide his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote fluff? Who even am I? ;)


End file.
